Today is my birthday. I’m 31 years old. Today is also Veteran’s Day, the old 20^th Century holiday, commemorating the soldiers who fought and died in World War I and World War II. It’s been more than one hundred years since the end of World War I, the war to end all wars, yet I have already seen so much bloodshed in my life.

When I was a kid, November 11^th was mostly about my birthday. Mom and I would plan these massive birthday parties for me. We’d always invite my whole class. One year, we even put up a circus tent on the back lawn and had real acrobats to teach us how to balance on the high wire and swing on the trapeze. The parties were wild and loud and long, and my friends would always go home exhausted, saying that they were the best parties they’d ever been to. In the early years, I didn’t understand that other kids couldn’t afford parties like this. Sometimes, I would hear dad whispering to mom that she was indulging me, and she’d tell him to let me enjoy my childhood. It’s as if she knew that my life would change someday.

Yet despite all the fun and excitement of the day, I would sometimes catch mom alone with a sadness in her eyes. After everyone had gone home, I would ask her why she seemed so sad. When I was really young, she would just smile and tell me that she was so proud of me, that I had invited my whole class, because it was important that we didn’t leave anyone out. Even in those early days, she was already teaching me to look outside myself and see the world and other people’s needs.

As I got older, she would tell me more about Veteran’s Day and its true meaning, about the cause for freedom and of those who sacrificed their lives for it. Mom had a deep respect for soldiers, for those who fought for freedom. I think she got some of that from Gramps, who fought in Vietnam. She saw the effect it had on him and his friends when she was a child, the sacrifices they made. Then she would change the subject.

"Did you have a good time today?"

"Yeah, Mom. It was the best!" I would always tell her.

"Good. I’m glad. I want you to keep having fun with your friends."

Then one year, she added. "Logan, you know all those people that died in World War I and World War II, and your Gramps and his friends?"

"Yeah, Mom?"

"I want you to remember that they fought so that you and I could have so much fun and freedom today. I’m really grateful for them and what they did for us. Someday when you grow up, you might have to do the same thing so other kids and their moms can have cool birthday parties. You’ve been given a great gift. You are smart and strong and talented, and you have a family who loves you. When you get older, you will find out about other resources that are available to you. You’ll be able to help a lot of people someday. I just want you to know that I am already so proud of you." I’d quickly give her a hug and take off to find my friends. I didn’t really understand what she was saying then, about war and freedom and sacrifice, or even why she was so proud of me.

After I lost my parents, life changed for me. Uncle Jonas and Aunt Margo didn’t care about the same things as mom. They cared about image, money, power and prestige. They expected me to conform to their lifestyle, so I learned how to be selfish and to use people. My birthdays in those years usually consisted of going out drinking with some guys from school and picking up girls. I tried not to think too much about mom then, and I thought even less about Veteran’s Day. For a long time, even the Pulse didn’t affect me. I was insulated in my selfish little world. It was only after my disastrous marriage with Val ended and Nathan Herrero came into my life that I started remembering mom’s words.

I haven’t celebrated my birthday in years. I haven’t even told anyone when it is. But in the last few years, I’ve thought a lot about Veteran’s Day and whether I was doing my share for the world. It still seemed too easy to me. Even after I started Eyes Only, I never really understood about sacrifice. I had enough money to do anything I wanted with Eyes Only, to pay off any informant, to hire whatever staff I needed, to buy any equipment I wanted. Sure, I had to take security precautions, but I wasn’t really close to anyone and I didn’t have a family to worry about. But this year, I’ve learned about sacrifice, about paying a price. When you’re young and passionate, it’s easy to say that you’re willing to sacrifice your life for freedom. I know I thought I was prepared to die, and so did Peter and his crew. And they did. They paid the ultimate price. But if I’d known ahead of time what I would be asked to sacrifice, I don’t know if I would have done it. This is not what I expected. I wasn’t prepared to land in this chair. I wasn’t prepared to redefine who I am, to factor my injury into my identity.

I definitely wasn’t prepared to have a woman come into my life now. Sometimes, I feel like I sacrificed my chance with her before we even got started. I don’t know if what I have to offer could ever be enough for her. I don’t know if I’ll ever have the courage to have anything more than a friendship with her. I never expected this uncertainty. This is a price I never expected to pay.

I’ve been thinking a lot about mom lately. Her words have been coming back to me more strongly than ever. It’s as if she knew she might not be here now, that she needed to tell me these things very early in my life. She needed me to know how she felt about those who have fought for freedom. She knew that I would need to remember her words today, because now I know the true meaning of Veteran’s Day. I know the price of freedom.